Bad Days Fit In Back Pockets
by jasper03
Summary: After spending days rounding up cursed artifacts, the boys are suffering ill-effects. Will they figure out how to stop it before it kills one of them?
1. My Cup Runneth Over

Bad Days Fit in Back Pockets

By: Jasper03

The heat inside the Impala was smoldering and the tape deck had threatened to eat one of Dean's beloved cassettes, so the afternoon had been quiet as they drove down the scorching road. They had been tracking activity linked to cursed artifacts that had been scattered when the smugglers fled.

The boys finally tracked down all the artifacts and dealt with them and their varying curses. They had nearly been set on fire by a figurine of a goddess, had their voices trapped in a conch shell, had to deal with a basket which kept producing snakes, among several other things. The young men had been picking at each other for the past two days. They desperately needed a break.

The Impala began to decelerate, and Dean quickly pulled to the side of the road before it stopped. The older brother slammed a palm on the steering wheel in anger and the bickering began. Sam hopped out of the passenger side of the car and slammed the door. He had far more patience than his brother, just not today. He complained and blamed his brother for not taking his advice on filling up that car's gas tank earlier.

"I told you we should have gotten gas."

"Sam, for the last time, this has nothing to do with lack of gas!" Dean became defensive. He had always taken care of Baby. He never forgot to take care of her needs. This was something else. He knew it. He could feel lit in his bones. This wasn't his fault.

"Let's review the facts. Do we have gas?" Sam didn't want to hear the excuses. He was too hot and tired. He had spent the better half of the night with his feet stuck to the ground in the same spot. It had been exhausting standing there awkwardly waiting for his brother to find him and lift the curse that kept him bound.

"No." Dean clenched his teeth. Even with his suspicions about the car, he had to admit facts. Baby had indeed indicated there was no gas right before they stopped. Though, he was sure she had been half full less than a half hour ago.

"See?" The younger Winchester found it hard for himself to hold back the retort. He was in a mood and needed to win at something not involving lifting curses. He knew his brother was too wore out to challenge him. It was a weak win, but he would take it.

Dean wondered if Sam was too old to still qualify as a brat. He shook his head as he popped the hood of the car and began a thorough examination of his beloved car. He would check the Impala from hood to trunk to tire. He just wished it was closer to evening so he wouldn't have to touch the scorching metal.

He muttered under his breath. "Bitch."

"Jerk." Sam added, the affection was absent from the usual brotherly exchange.

The older sibling began again with his anger-filled grumbling as he recalled the past forty-eight hours. Nothing had been right. They had slept in the car as motels at capacity turned them away. Dean's cheeseburger had a hair in it. To top it all off, the waitress carrying Dean's pie at the diner the previous night had tripped and it flew into his face, dripping down his clothes.

Sam stood awkwardly, feeling utterly ineffective and not knowing what to do. "Need help?"

"From you? I don't think so, princess!"

Sam watched his big brother pace from the front of the car to the trunk cursing as he went. Then watched him dig through the inside of the car and move to the trunk once more. Dean slammed his door shut and spun on his heels kicking up gravel.

"Lose something?" Even if his brother was being a jerk, Sam was willing to help.

Dean stormed around the car, then crouched down and looked underneath for his tools. He didn't know what he would be doing with the wrench because in his gut, he could feel that what was wrong with Baby wasn't mechanical. "Can't find the damn wrench!"

"Dean, it's in your back pocket."

The older Winchester cursed more, at a loss for more constructive verbiage. He just wanted the day to be over with. Curses were right up there with witches in his book. They were the part of his job he didn't particularly enjoy. He liked hunting demons, vetala, vampires…. Anything, but stopping stupid curses, probably made by witches.

Dean stood straight and patted his pockets, first gently and calmly, then with more intensity and concern. "Uh. Hey Sam?"

"Huh?"

"I can't… I can't find my keys." The man was now scurrying around, kicking up dirt, frantically looking for the Impala's keys.

Sam was now actively trying to help his brother locate the keys. "Check your pocket?"

Dean checked but with no avail. He stooped down and peered through the Impala's windows. "Son of a bitch."

* * *

**Next chapter hopefully next week. This was inspired by my drabble, "Does the Penny Have to Be Face Up?" **

**Join the KT Drabble Challenge Community and submit drabbles every Sunday. Hit follow and review!**


	2. But My Patience Is Running Out

The last insect smacked into Baby's grille and she sputtered to a stop. Her tank ached painfully for gas. She felt like she had burned through her gas four times faster than usual. She knew she could go a little longer, the next town wasn't that far, but the bugs were too much. She was going to sit there until Dean or Sammy fixed the problem.

She was a classic and demanded to be treated as such. If she went on any longer the bugs would build up and her radiator would heat up and the fins would meld together, and she'd overheat and- and- she'd heard stories like this. Seen it happen. It had happened to a poor old Volkswagen at uncle Bobby's salvage yard. The radiator was shot to shit because some bastard drove him into the ground.

Baby wasn't taking any chances and cut out while she still could. Dean would soon figure out what's wrong. He always did. He'd learned everything he knew from John and uncle Bobby.

She heard Sammy complaining from shotgun and Dean cussing from behind the wheel. They had been at each other's throats for hours. The un-scheduled stop wouldn't make matters any better.

Sam nagged at Dean from his seat. He was really going for the smart ass award. "What was it I said a few miles ago Dean? Oh! I remember! We should get gas."

"She's not outta gas." Baby thought, he's not actually wrong. She did cut out before she was out completely. Where her gas had gone, was still a mystery to her.

"And what was it you said? She'll be fine until the next town. And look what hap-"

"Shuddup Sam!" Dean yelled and Baby chorused in her mind. She was glad that her dad concurred with her. However, she feared that the it was due to something supernatural and she just hoped her boys would find out in time.

"She's not outta gas. It's something else." _Thank you, Dean! This man is a genius!_

"I told you we should have gotten gas." Sam slammed her door shut. That kinda hurt. The kid knew better than that. She was classic, not some early 2000's mongrel.

"Sam for the last time, this has nothing to do with lack of gas!" _I'm being attacked supernaturally, and I can taste bugs, Dean._

"Do we have gas?"

"No." _I still have some! Just enough. What is wrong with you? I thought we agreed. Enough to get to the next town. You saw I had gas and it disappeared. Stick to your guns, Dad. _

Baby listened to her boys gripe at each other and winced every time someone slammed one of her members shut. These boys were awfully dangerous when they were mad. Her backside smarted as Dean slammed the trunk down. The Impala was getting sick of the abuse.

She could feel something small and vital sitting on her seat. It was her key. All Baby could think was _'Well, shit'_.


End file.
